Monday, March 27, 2017

Howdy! The word prompt this week is "dice". I'm switching to a new story I've just started, one that has been percolating for a long time. It's tentatively named "Break My Heart". Scroll down for the link to return to Tuesday Tales and to my website. The picture here isn't a final cover, just a rendering I did to get inspiration, although I think the picture will be on the final cover. Thanks for stopping by.

Rick Winslow approached the beat-up farmhouse with
caution. Seedy came to mind. Along with dilapidated and creepy. He shivered.
This is what he could get that came with thirty acres and no neighbors – the
price he paid for privacy.

Returning to Pine Grove hadn’t been a choice, in the
truest sense of the word. It had been the only place he could afford such
privacy. Back to his roots, maybe. At least here he’d be away from the stares
of strangers. He’d live in peace, get a few animals, maybe even branch out from
dogs and cats to chickens so he could have fresh eggs.

His cousin Mindy had found it and called him. He had driven out from New York City that same day and made an offer the next. Much of the
land was open field. He’d let that go to seed, return to native forest,
something he could hide behind.

Breaker Winslow had died in a fire and Rick Winslow
had been reborn. When he closed his eyes, he could still feel the heat and
smell the smoke. Fear spike through him. First thing he’d do in this old wreck
was brick up the fireplace.

He pulled a cap out of his back pocket and thrust it
low on his head. Had to keep the sun off his face. That’s what the doctor who
did the reconstructive surgery said.

“Stay out of the sun. That graft is gonna be sensitive
for a while. Maybe forever. Wear sunblock every day and a hat. Stay away from the beach and you’ll be fine. The
scars will fade and you’ll look okay soon.”

Look okay? By whose standards? He’d never look okay
again, never be Breaker Winslow, actor, model, heartthrob on a million book
covers. When Breaker Winslow rushed up the stairs to the second floor of his
townhouse looking for Ralph his golden
retriever mix, he had no clue how advanced the fire had become or where it had
started.

He’d managed to save Ralph, only to be struck by a
burning beam. He’d dropped the dog, who had been buried under a pile of flaming
debris. Unconscious, he’d been saved by the fire department. Breaker’s face had
been permanently damaged, scarred beyondmuch
more than a skin graft patch job could fix. And Ralph had died anyway. Breaker had rolled
the dice, and lost, big time.

Now he was
simply Richard B. Winslow. Yeah, “B” for Breaker. Rick to his childhood friends
and family. Not fit to model, Rick had no other profession. Once it hit the
news who owned the townhouse that had burned to the ground, the paparazzi had hounded him. Every effort to hide had failed and it wasn’t long before the
picture of his hideous face had hit the papers.

Monday, March 20, 2017

Welcome! This week we have to write to a picture and use only 300 words. I picked this one. And I'm continuing the story, Reunited. Scroll down to go back to Tuesday Tales and the other stories, and to my website. Thanks for stopping by.

*****************************

Cassie awoke, and stretched. She smiled. Today, she’d be supervising the set up of the farm for shooting the program. She had a week to get everything done before Mike and the crew showed up. Slipping out of bed, she grabbed her robe, and padded into the kitchen.

The smell of brewing coffee tantalized her taste buds. Rummaging through the fridge, she located a loaf of “health” bread and made a face. Still, she grabbed the loaf and her sugar-free jam. She hated the taste of that cardboard, masquerading as toast. Slathering on strawberry jam with some artificial sweetener which made it sickeningly sweet, she grimaced as she faced her breakfast. She’d have to eat real food when shooting began, or subsist on this crap off camera.

She sipped her coffee as the phone dialed Ned.

“Good morning,” he said.

“Hi. When is the set-up crew scheduled to arrive? Today’s first day. I’m heading out as soon as I get dressed. What time should I expect them?”

“Crew?”

“Didn’t you arrange for a crew?”

“There’s no budget for a crew, Cassie. You’ll have to do it yourself.”

“Well that sucks.”

“I’m sorry, baby, but we’ve cut the budget to the bone just to get this thing in the can.”

She stuck out her lower lip and plopped down on a chair.

“Damn.”

“I know, I know. It’s not what you wanted. After we close the deal, they’ll be money for a set-up crew and you’ll be treated like a queen.”

Mollified, a small grin crept across her face. “Okay, then.”

She grabbed a shower, then jumped in her car and hit the Palisades Parkway. She tooled along the pretty highway speeding toward Pine Grove. First, she stopped at the grocery store. She bumped into a cart maneuvered by an older woman.

Monday, March 13, 2017

Cassie
finished up and hit the road. With no difficulty, she found the rental office
that held the lease for Quincy farm. There was a sign outside a small farmhouse
that pointed to a door on the side. She knocked.

“Come on
in. I’m in the kitchen,” called a female voice.

Cassie
entered a charming home painted bright colors. The smell of bread baking
beckoned her to the kitchen. She stuck her head in.

“Mrs.
Rogers?”

“That’s
me. You are?”

“Cassie
Newsome. I called about leasing the Quincy Farm?”

“Oh,
sure, sure. Come on in. I’ve just put up a pot of tea.” The woman gestured to a
round oak table in the center of a generous kitchen. “You like bread?”

Cassie
nodded, her mouth already watering at the tempting aroma.

“I got
some here, fresh baked. One loaf is cooled enough.” The woman sliced off two
slabs and put them on plates. A half stick of butter rested in an old fashioned dish. Cassie spread and watched it melt.

“Lemon
or milk?” The woman asked.

“Milk,
please, Mrs. Rogers.”

“Everyone
calls me Ellie. Nice to meet ya,” she said, sitting down across from Cassie. “So
tell me, what do you need a farm for?”

“It’s
only for four months.”

“We only
do six month rentals.” Ellie’s brows knitted.

“Oh,
that’s okay. We’ll pay for six months. No problem.”

“Good.”

“How
come you’re renting out the farm, instead of living there? If you don’t mind me
asking.”

“Have
you tried to make a living off a farm?”

Cassie
shook her head.

“Yeah,
well, we didn’t do too good. It’s Joe’s mom’s place. She passed five years ago.
We gave it a go for as long as we could. Then moved back here. Joe’s got a
job at the garden supply store. I sell bread to the coffee shop in town. We
make out okay.”

“Many
people want to rent a farm?” Cassie’s curiosity overcame her shyness.

“You’d
be surprised. If you only need it for four months, we’d like to have it back
for Christmas. We have a family that always comes up here for the holidays.
City folk. They bring their kids. They say they’re looking for an old fashioned
experience.”

Cassie
smiled, then cast her gaze to the floor. She remembered one great Christmas. It was before her dad deserted them, when he still loved her mother. She must have been four or five. The little house had been filled with tantalizing smells of
gingerbread and cinnamon, of apples cooking and meat roasting.

By the
summertime, her father had had a huge fight with her mother, knocked her around
a bit and taken off. No matter how hard her mother tried, Christmas was never
the same. When she left, Cassie stopped even acknowledging the holiday.

“I see you’re not married, right? So what
do you want with a big ole farmhouse?”

“Actually, it’s for a television program.”

“You
gonna film a show there?”

Cassie
nodded.

“Wow! We’re
gonna be famous? That’s unbelievable.”

“If the
network picks up the show, we might be back again.”

“Want to
see the place?”

Cassie nodded. “Can we go now?”

“Of
course. Finish up. I’ll get the key.”

Ellie
left the room. Cassie finished her bread. She’d never eaten anything so
delicious in her life. She drained her cup and wiped her lips. Ellie chattered
about the farm all the way down the street.

When
Cassie stepped out of the car, she sighed. The word “perfect” came to
mind.

Thank you so much for coming. Click here to return to Tuesday Tales and this to go to my website. TUESDAY TALESMY WEBSITE

Cassie
scrounged up a frozen dinner from the freezer. She poured another glass of wine
and while she ate, searched the Internet for the right location for the shoot.
What would be a likely place for her to hang with Mike? She closed her eyes and
images flashed through her mind. She saw a barn and a pond. No, it was a lake.
And trees, lots of trees. The rope swing Mike’s dad hung in a tree on their
property jogged her memory.

“Okay,
rural,” she said, typing into the Google search bar.

After
discarding several places as too basic –she refused to use an outhouse –she found
the perfect spot -- a log cabin on fifty acres for rent. With two bedrooms, a
giant fireplace in the great room, a good kitchen and two bathrooms, this was
ideal. The price wasn’t cheap, but hey, it wasn’t coming out of her pocket.

The show
had to be right and the setting, romantic or why waste their time? She clicked
on the slideshow and perused the pictures of Quincy Farm. There were fields, a
large garden not far from the house. Rocking chairs on the porch and a tree
swing added rustic charm.

She shot
off an email to Ned:

Going to see Quincy Farm for the show. I’ll be on

the
road for the next few days. Talk to you as soon

as I know anything.

She
snuggled into bed, hugging her extra pillow. Excitement at taking her dream to
the next level filled her veins and she found it hard to sleep. Various
scenarios with Mike on Quincy Farm floated through her imagination.

After so
many years in the City, getting back to the country, to her roots, brought
happy anticipation. Although the place wasn’t far from Pine Grove, where she
and Mike grew up, she was light years ahead of the insecure, little girl who’d
left town when she was eighteen and had never returned. Did she yearn to go
back? No way! She was right where she needed to be, taking control of
her life and reaching for the moon.

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About Tuesday Tales

I started writing nonfiction about fifteen years ago. I've had seven nonfiction books published. In January, 2010 I started writing fiction, culminating in my first published work, "Now and Forever 1, a Love Story".

I have written two sequels and one has been published, Now and Forever 2, the Book of Danny, by Secret Cravings Publishing. I just finished my first book of just romance with no mystery plot.